


Three Cups

by orphan_account



Category: Chocolat (2000)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Romance Fiction Genre, Food/Cooking Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Vianne and Roux share a quiet summer morning together - over cups of hot chocolate, of course.





	Three Cups

**Author's Note:**

> Done for Valentine's Day 2019.

A morning haze rolls through the French countryside caressed by the soft pastels of a sleepy sun. Kissed in summer, the earth is heavy with dew and the trees are dressed in their finest skirts, as if for church mass. The crowing of a rooster is quieted by rolling hills of every size. This is all heard and seen at the edge of Lansquenet-sous-Tannes through Chocolaterie Maya's window. This window is as fancifully decorated inside as the realm outside. Candies gilded in gold paper, lemon poppy cookies glittering with sugar on one half chocolate on the other, big hearty cakes generously lathered in decadent frosting and accented in orange zest. The centerpiece of a white chocolate rabbit winks knowingly.

The rest of the town has yet to awaken but Vianne Rocher is already fast at work casting her delicious spells. Her hands and apron are masked with flour, the light curling of her hair peppered in white. She glides across kitchen like the most elegant of witches although her broom won't be of much help when she's finished. The tables and floors are already spotted with cream and mousse and she has just only begun today's dozens of orders. However, this first treat she is crafting is not for a paying customer but rather it is a gift to be shared between herself and whoever might walk through the shop's doors. The first person you meet eyes with on any given morning will set off a unique and special chain of events lasting until the next morning, perhaps longer, so it is best to lovingly charm them so that they might in turn might lovingly charm you.

She cracks fresh eggs purchased from a neighbor and separates the whites from the yolk and then beats them into a rich chocolate concoction in a clay bowl until the chocolate runs smooth and glossy. Vianne then spoons the mix into a frosted ramekin, filling it about 3/4ths of the way to the rim. She creates a channel with her thumb alongside the ramekin's edge to prevent cracking during baking and also so that the soufflé might rise with a lovely mushroom shaped top. When completed, she wipes clean the exterior of the ceramic container and sets it on a cooking sheet and then moves it to the oven.

Ten minutes pass and there is a ringing at the front of the shop. _Ah, right on time_ , Vianne smiles, not without a hint of smugness. Hmm, let's see. Will it be dearest Josephine dropping in for a quick chat before she heads off to run her flourishing café? How about Comte de Reynaud to pick up a present for Caroline Clairmont? He has finally found the courage to begin courting her after all this time! Perhaps Little Luc? Pere? Yvette and Alphonse? Whomever proves to be waiting outside, she knows they will love her surprise. _She is certain!_

She hurriedly dusts herself off and washes her hands. Dancing across the room, her heels clicking and clacking across the chocolaterie with a particular rhythm that would go quite well with a jazzy tune if only there'd been any musicians around to play. From beyond the glass of the shop's front, the silhouette of a man is seen. Vianne suddenly stops in her tracks, her lips opening ever so slightly as if her soul threatens to leave her. She doesn't have to see his face to know that it is _him_. Though the glass is obscured by fog, she knows his shape - every angle, every corner, every nook of his body.

 _Roux_ , she breathes.

She is blown away as if by the north wind every time he graces her shop with his hushing beauty. Vianne tries to regain composure and she does - _mostly._ With lighter steps, she continues forward and unlocks the door. His guitar is strapped over his shoulder, dark eyes rendered darker by sunglasses he doesn't yet need. The way he holds himself, tall and head high, well, let's just say both Vianne and Roux share an eccentric form of confidence. They get along quite well not in spite but because of it.

"The door squeaks louder than ever. Must be all the moisture lately." Roux says with a muted humor, patting the frame. He doesn't go on to say that he plans to fix it anytime soon. "This weather reminds me of home."

 _But you are home!_ Vianne's heart cries out.

Roux lifts his nose in the air, inhaling the scents he has come to associate with France. Between the pastries and Vianne's perfume, it all gets him drunker faster than whisky. _Goes down easier too._

"Your favorite is hot chocolate," is all Vianne can think to say. It is a statement not unlike 'towns are smaller than cities' or 'kangaroos like to hop' that no one would object to but it doesn't make for the most eloquent of greetings. Roux has this uncanny knack for confusing her senseless simply by existing. Their puppy love has only grown more intense with the passing of seasons and Vianne and Roux were no better off than virgin youths, never mind their countless other lovers lost to the past and the many evenings already spent with each other.  

A faint smile tugs at Roux's lips.

Vianne nods sheepishly and turns around. As she walks back to the kitchen, she feels Roux nudging her hand with his own, as if asking permission to hold it. It's a funny gesture; Roux can have her hand and all the rest of her should he like. Perhaps he isn't so much 'asking' as he is 'suggesting' that she might like to hold _his_ hand. It is a rare honor to play with a self-proclaimed river rat and she's missing out. She opens her palm enough to acknowledge his touch but makes him do the work of entwining his fingers around hers. It is indeed an honor to hold Monsieur's hand _and_ it is an honor to hold Mademoiselle's! Roux agrees completely.

He is warm, even here in the bakery.

"Soufflé," Vianne scrambles around for words, any words at all. "I have made one. For us. Dessert spoons, ah, let me grab two. Would you like raspberries and bread with it? Cups, cups, where are-... over here, where they always are."

She fetches three cups, two for Roux and herself and a third for her daughter Anouk for when she awakens. Though Vianne has poured hot chocolate a hundred thousand times, she finds herself entranced by the stream channeling from the kettle to the cup. She is reminded of him. Roux' eyes are similar - flowing chocolate, dark, smooth, and a little bitter. She always adds a dash of chili pepper to her drinks and this timeless flavor is now synonymous with Roux' personality for her.  Everything under the stars and moon reminds her of him these days.

Vianne holds out a cup for Roux and he considers it with a thoughtful look. _Oooh,_ if he dares tell her that hot chocolate is in fact _not_ his favorite, she might just toss it at him. But he accepts it, trying and failing to hold back a smirk.

The soufflé catches in the window's sunlight so perfectly that a tiny rainbow dances in the steam. It is a simple dish made into a radiant piece of artwork fitting of royalty made all the more wonderful by Vianne's love for the world and all of its people. Their spoons slice into the soufflé together and it erupts with a hot molten core.

"Incredible." Roux whispers. The chocolate _and_ Vianne. Her jewelry glitters and her eyes sparkle at twilight's hour and Roux is so very dizzied by this dazzling woman. Vianne bites her lip, her arousal as evident through the heat of her cheeks as the uneasy shuffling in her seat. The chocolate is hot on her tongue but there is a heat much warmer below her skirt as Roux rolls his hand over her thigh, so lightly that Vianne wonders if she is hallucinating it. Roux licks the corner of his mouth free of chocolate and stares at his spoon with an increasingly bemused expression. 

Maybe the uncanny pair of societal misfits really are as mad and strange as they've been told throughout their lives.  

But that's fine.

_Downright preferable, actually!_


End file.
